“What did you say, Albert?” the judge asked.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to talk out of turn.”
Torres nodded for me to proceed.
I asked, “Albert, would you like to have sex with Shawna?”
Albert frowned. He snapped his fingers three times quickly, as if summoning a waiter. “That what she mean?”
“The judge would like to know if you want to have sex with children.”
“That what she think of me?” he asked, not demanded.
“No, Albert,” Torres said. “I don’t know. I’m asking.”
“Don’t she know?” Albert continued talking to me as if we were alone in the room. I’m sure that rudeness seemed arrogant. I knew it to be fear.
“You should tell the judge everything. That’s the only way you can be sure she knows what she needs to know. You can’t count on us.”
Albert faced Torres like a soldier reporting. “I can’t do it, you know? I can’t have sex. They say my …”he gestured, shyly, at his crotch, “they say it’s fine. But not in my head, you know? It’s uglified. Rafe — I mean, the doctor — he thinks it will change. But I don’t know. I can’t fuck anybody.” Al realized the word he had used and quickly added, “Sorry, I don’t mean to disrespect you. That’s just the word, you know. I’m sorry.”
Embarrassed, Bartell averted his face from Albert to stare at Torres’s shelves. He had read my report so I assume his reaction was to the spectacle of Albert’s admission of impotence, not to the fact.
Torres, however, reacted well. She was matter-of-fact. “Albert, I see now how I misunderstood you. I don’t think I asked you the right question. Let’s say Dr. Neruda is right. I’m sure we all have confidence he is, and your problem eventually goes away and you can have sex whenever and with whomever you wish. Okay? Can we suppose that?”
“Yes, ma‘am,” Albert said.
“Would you then try to have sex with a child?”
“Course not.” Albert was insulted. I knew because he sucked in his left cheek as if to bite it. “I thought I said that.”
Torres looked down at the papers on her desk. She spoke with a lowered head. “Dr. Neruda, at your clinic there is no security, correct? Any of the young men could simply walk out?”
“Yes.”
“Your Honor,” Stoppard began, “they are supervised at all times—”
“I know, Counselor. I meant, specifically, that they are not locked in at night or during the day for that matter. Their presence and time is accounted for, but they’re on their honor in terms of leaving the grounds, is that correct?”
I answered, “They are not permitted to leave the grounds without us and they are supervised, but there is no physical barrier to escape. Of course, Albert has lived within those rules for the past six months.”
“There was a seven-month gap between Albert’s attack on Shawna and the child at the shelter. What makes you confident that Albert will continue to be responsible?”
“I’ve worked with Albert five days a week and sometimes on weekends for six months. That is the equivalent of years of therapy for most people. I believe I know him well, perhaps better than anyone but Albert himself. His desire to live a productive self-sufficient life, a life where he can be a useful member of our world, is very strong. In fact, I believe his violence against Shawna was a perverted expression of a desire to be helped out of the hopelessness and violence of his family. I don’t think Albert will run from his friendships and his work at our clinic because it’s a safe place for him. As you know, he and the other boys are tutored daily. They have the opportunity to make friends in the local basketball and soccer leagues. He has a life with us that he would miss. That’s the best barrier against violence and escape anyone can create.”
Judge Torres opened a folder and gestured at a paper. “I have an amicus brief filed by the Yonkers Adolescent Center and Metropolitan State. They both endorse your therapy, Doctor, and recommend Albert stay at your clinic. But they also decline to agree with your statement that Albert isn’t dangerous to himself or others. Met State goes so far as to recommend that you install security measures. I’m sure you understand, Doctor, that my concern for Albert’s well-being must be secondary to the well-being of society. Besides what you have already said, what further assurance can you give me that Albert won’t do harm to others?”
“I can’t think of anything, Your Honor, except that I am putting my clinic, both its federal and state funding, as well as my own money, at risk. If Albert runs away or is violent then our work and my reputation will be severely damaged. May I also comment that, in my opinion, the reservations expressed by Yonkers and Met State are a statement for their self-protection, rather than a prediction of Albert’s behavior.”
Torres smiled shyly. “I’m afraid, Doctor, that as a jurist I can’t read beneath the lines as you do in your profession. I must take them, as I take you, at face value.”
“I understand,” I smiled back. “As I say, I’m prepared to stake my reputation and the survival of our clinic on Albert. That’s as much confidence as I’ve got in me.”
Torres said, “And that’s as much confidence as the law has a right to expect.” She opened her hands in a gesture to Albert. “It’s up to you. You have a chance to make a good life for yourself, Albert.”
CHAPTER TEN
Change
A WEEK PASSED WITHOUT GENE APPEARING. FINALLY HE LEFT A MESSAGE saying he would come in at his regular time the next day and I should call back if there was a problem. I cleared the hour — Diane and I had planned to have lunch — but didn’t respond, curious to see if he needed reassurance to show up.
He didn’t. He entered with a determined air, a new attitude, striding to his chair, sitting upright, eyes unflinching. “You’re right,” he said. He waved a hand. “I thought about it for days and days. I practically crashed my car into a tree going back to the office — you know, the day I walked out. By the way,” he said, glancing away briefly, then forcing his eyes to me, “I’m not paying for the two sessions I missed. You threw me out. I mean, that’s what seems fair. I know I left, but you pushed me out.”
Gee, that meant I would be out one hundred dollars. “I agree,” I said solemnly. “Does this mean we’re resuming therapy?”
“If you’re willing,” Gene said. “You’re right. I’m weak. I’m scared. I’m chicken. I’m going to start behaving differently, but I could use a friend—” He stopped. “But you’re not a friend, are you?”
“I feel friendly toward you. Friendship is different than being a doctor and a patient, though.”
“I need your help,” Gene said boldly, not sounding as if he needed anyone. “Is that bad? Is that part of what’s wrong with me?”
“In a way.”
“So I shouldn’t be here?”
“If you are going to make a serious effort to change your life, it’s reasonable to want an ally. I’m happy to be in my comfortable boat rowing along while you swim to a new land, Gene. I won’t get wet. I won’t drown. I don’t think you’ll drown either. What I don’t want is to stand beside you on the shore wondering if the water’s safe. It isn’t safe. And I can’t do the swimming for you.”
Gene became thoughtful and silent for a while. He crossed his legs, rubbed his chin, and then commented, “I think I should ask for a raise.”
“So do I.”
“Stick has invited me to his house. I mean Pete and Cathy too. For a barbecue. Black Dragon has a green light. We have to have a prototype in a year. I know what that means. In a month, he’ll cut the deadline to six months. I’m going to be working like a dog. And I’m the project director. He can’t trust me with the company’s biggest new product and pay me fifty thousand.”